The Pianist
by Sunfish-chan
Summary: It was He, who had longed day and night for that semblance of maternal care. It was He, that had peeked through the obscurity and found only cruelty and a strict conduct. He, who was a black key among glimmering pearls. Rated for blood, mass murder and probably smoochy face.
1. Prologue: Ebony

**I'm giving this here, a try. I'm bad at writing just plain old romance. So I'll add a twist, maybe?**

**And of course, the only thing that belongs to me is the writing and the plot. Characters? That's a no-no.**

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x**

The Pianist

Prologue

_"The wonder of ebony, guiding the ivory."_

Nimble fingers danced down the ebony and ivory streets, a calm tune drifted over their heads, filling the spacious room with gentle chimes. The conversation, a low buzz, swelled and swallowed the elegantly adorned halls. People clothed in their finest attire filed in to the room, the music jumbling with the immense hubbub of the partygoers.

The redhead pianist unyielding to his work, drowned and a hum in the background of the joyous occasion only smiled and pressed onward. He was only a decoration of the festivities. He had no intention of mingling with the noisy, unorganized masses. The young man only wished to go about his business, uncaring for anyone in the packed hall.

The occupied male was in another world entirely. Unattached and distant, the man only had eyes for the keys. The perfectly contrasting slips of pearl and coal, those wonderful creations only a piece to the prized creation of Man. His lips twitched upwards as he mused over the poetic aspects of a piano, realizing how he wished everything could be as such.

Darkness nestled in with light. The evil perched above the angelic frame, watching over the swelling corpus of white, protecting the innocence in that way. That unexpected, yet delightfully parental way that he yearned—no, begged for.

It was He, who had longed day and night for that semblance of maternal care. It was He, that had peeked through the obscurity and found only cruelty and a strict conduct. He, who was a black key among glimmering pearls.

And He, who silenced the masses with a tender sweep of his hand.

It was He that sat amid the deafening silence.

The spacious hall with shimmering lights and overpowering warmth fell into darkness. A single ray of light penetrating the dim, spilling forth from a cracked door shone crimson. The young pianist sighed and pushed his chair back, grunting as the chair lurched. He squinted at the floor around the legs of his seat. What could have gotten in the way of his perfect exit?

Who would dare ruin this wonderful moment?

He crouched beside his seat, spotting a tiny hand, severed and still lightly oozing his favored nectar of life. The man plucked the hand from the floor, dangling the pale flesh between his index finger and thumb. Inspecting it, he found that it was indeed from a bloodied corpse lying a foot away. He tossed it towards the twitching mass of rubies and tattered drapery, straightening up as he did so, lightly padding his knees and thighs.

The redhead glanced about the room, bored eyes sliding along the trail of light and down to his shoes. With hands on his hips, he nodded, yawned and grabbed his worn coat from his chair. He pulled one clenched hand through one sleeve, then two, and adjusted his tie absentmindedly.

He cleared his throat, "Thank you for your patronage." He called upon deaf ears, bowing to no one in particular. "It was truly an honor playing with you tonight." The redhead unbent, ticked to his dark, twisted core. He waltzed out of the room, stepping atop detached limbs and torsos, kicking a gaping head along his merry way.

He paused in the doorway, forcing the heavy polished door ajar. He spun on his heel, looking over the mangled and bloody bodies splayed along the, once glossy tiles. The young pianist, sporting a toothy grin, took a few minutes to admire his work.

This was not his finest work; he would have to admit to himself later that night. However, for the time being, this was what he wanted most in the world. A room silenced by his own hands.

He smiled at his hands, now powerful and tools of the trade. No longer would he be held back by the galling hordes, never more would he be at the mercy of Man.

He watched over the leaking and foul smelling mound of humans, now lifeless and fragmented at his feet. He was the black key among pearls.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x**

**I'm sick, okay D: I have the sniffles and my birthday was the 3rd, so don't be mad at me!**

**I'm better at writing adventure and horror stories -w-**

**I'll update, _Before Dawn, _later. I've been busy. But as I was lying in bed, I was overcome with the greatest urge to type up something! Oh yes, this will be multi-chaptered! That isn't a word? Oh, well.**

**Writing about a murderous Sasori proved easy, on a whim.**

**Please review! Tell me what you think D:**

**Reviews help me get better faster and type more! Give unto me your bountiful medicine of the written word!**


	2. Sapphires and Newspapers

**Here you go!**

**Thank you MitchiMarra and Envyyyyy for reviewing :D**

**Though the reviews did not bring a swift recovery, they pushed me that short distance to get to work! Which is saying something, because I just want to sleep.**

**Anywho, please enjoy!**

**I do not own the characters! Don't hurt me.**

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x**

The Pianist

Chapter 1

Sapphires and Newspapers

"With how heavy you sleep, I wonder if even the devil could wake you!" An exasperated woman pouted. Tossing her head to the side, she placed her hands on her hips and glared at the lump under the covers. "How long do you plan on sleeping, eh?" She plucked the covers off of the mattress, blinding the dazed man curled around his pillow.

The young man groaned, attempting to shield his face from the glaring sunlight trickling through the drapes. "I do believe the devil has woken me." He peeked out from around the pillow clutched to his face, "tell me Woman, how many more mornings will you plague me, un?"

The young woman glowered at the offending male's visible eye. "Shut it, Deidara. Breakfast is served." She droned, swiveling on her heel, blonde hair bouncing as he stomped out of the room.

Deidara nuzzled his pillow, kicking free of the covers still tangled around his feet. His stomach growled at the movement, as he raised himself off of the bed. He sniffled, still defending his poor eyes from the intense light with his pillow. It was at that moment of fatigue and deep weakness, he decided legs were unnecessary.

With a weary nod he hummed and flopped onto the soft, carpeted floor. The blond giggled, rubbing his cheek into the cool plush. He doubted he would ever grow tired of the crisp bed sheets, the immaculate accommodations, or the extravagant delicacies the boarding school offered. And with that thought, his stomach grumbled again, louder; egging the boy on.

"To Food!" He chirped, jumping to his feet. He eased right, left, whirling slowly in place. Large sapphire orbs darting about the room, a soft 'aha!' escaping his lips as his eyes landed on his uniform. He pulled on the crinkled uniform after a quick inspection and nod, slipped his stockings on, messily and hopped to the door-still attempting to fix his shoe ties. "Onward, my brethren, un!" Deidara poked his head out from around his doorframe, calling out a charge to the rest of the hall; only to find a ghostly silence. He pouted and hobbled down the hall, kicking his right leg awkwardly, trying to make the new shoe more comfortable.

Today was going to be one of those days.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

"I feel kind of homesick." Deidara murmured to his plate, scooting the plump grapes along with his spoon. A thin, silver-haired man scowled at the purple lumps rolling about the plate.

"You keep saying things like that, but you never fucking do anything about it." The angry-looking male drawled, eyeing the fruit heatedly. Deidara blinked slowly at his friend, as if trying to make sense of what the latter had just said. "If you miss home so much, just get the hell out of here."

"Why should I go home, un? Then who would be here to keep you company?" Deidara grinned, plucking a grape from his platter and popping it into his mouth. "You would be lost without me, un."

"I would be perfectly fine without you. Anyway, I have this bastard right here." He declared, prodding a thumb to his right—where a, rather, annoyed and tired looking man sat.

"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from calling me that."

"Shut your fat, fucking mouth, Kakuzu."

"Hidan, stop swearing like a sailor; Kakuzu, carry on." A dainty woman leered from across the table, adjusting her blue, clipped-back hair. The tired man nodded and flicked the morning paper open while an angry Hidan bit his lip, trying to find the perfect comeback, but failing miserably. The small woman giggled, eyes turned to Deidara. "Why do you feel homesick? We aren't a family? I thought we were a family. Aren't we a family, Kakuzu?" She gestured to the dark man behind the papers, a shrug being the only answer Kakuzu would risk. Deidara glanced between his friends, eyes wide with amusement.

"Well, fine!" She pouted and folded her arms over her chest, glaring at her plate of cookies and milk. Deidara, flailed across the table, almost upsetting the grapes and milk in the process.

"That's not it Konan-I swear, un!" He whined, patting her shoulders roughly. "Besides, I said only a little homesick. You guys take all the pain away, un!" He added the last part for dramatic effect.

"If it's not that bad, then why is your hair all crazy?" Konan grumbled, eyeballing the loose and disheveled hair suspiciously. Deidara gasped, hands grasping at his head. Realizing his grave mistake, he sat back in his seat, fiddling with his hair.

"It was just a slow morning, un."

"Yeah, right. Something's on your mind. And I'll find out what it is." Konan ogled the blond, index finger tapping her chin deafly. Deidara blinked, pulling half of his hair into a high ponytail.

"Un..?" The blue haired woman said nothing to this, only smiled and peeked at the paper shielding Kakuzu.

"Oh, look at that." She sang from her seat, jabbing the morning paper, causing the paper to fall from the tired man's hands. "Another mass homicide. How terribly interesting." Konan eyed Deidara, hands clasped below her chin. A large grin spreading across her lips as the blonde's eyes widened.

Deidara had been following the stories closely. He found the whole mass-murder-mystery happenings to be quite invigorating. So much so, that he often stole clippings and hid them under his mattress. The young man liked to think of himself as, somewhat, a talented young detective who would base his entire career on a single mystery. This was the whodunit he had been waiting for, and he was not going to let it slip through his endowed, albeit clumsy, hands.

"Yeah, well at least pirates are fucking awesome!" Hidan piped up from his stupor, pointing to Konan, a satisfied chortle falling from his mouth. Konan rolled her eyes at her quite dumb friend.

While the pair glared at one another, Kakuzu slipped from his chair, hitting the floor with a loud thud—fast asleep. Konan and Hidan snapped to attention at their missing friend, both glancing around the table, Hidan finally spotting the sleeping man below the table. "Shit, you okay?" Hidan craned his neck to his sleeping comrade, kicking him lightly.

"I said sailor, thought pirate is close. Good job." Konan sighed turned her attention back to her untouched plate and picked up a cracked cookie, scrutinizing every crumb. "Deidara, where are you going?"

But he was already out the door. No one knows when it happened, but within those moments of Hidan blurting out his long awaited comeback and Kakuzu falling from his chair, the blond had snatched up the paper and skimmed the front page article.

Deidara sped down the halls. Down winding wings and twisting turns, he scaled staircase after staircase, not paying any mind to the other students trawling the galleries. He was in such a rush, that he did not see the short man strolling opposite him.

Granted the shorter male was buried in a book. Regardless, both could not avoid the inevitable meeting.

And with that, both men, wrapped up in different worlds, collided with a sickening thump.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.**

**So, it was hard to write his chapter. Please let me know what you think. Reviews make me happy.**

**I'm so freaking depressed, and sick. Boo!**

**Review, please. Because reviews make me smile like an idiot. And everyone loves idiots!**

**Didja know that the Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt OST and Vocaloids help me write? Yup. So does a bit of Fairy Tail. Oh, yes.**


	3. Books and Keys

**Thank you for the awesome reviews Envyyyyy and deidaralover4evr ! And to anyone that favorite-d or followed this :3 !**

**This chapter wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be to write, even with this silly keyboard.**

**So, please enjoy!**

**And as usual, the characters DO NOT belong to me! I'll hurt you, man. They're not mine!**

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The Pianist

Chapter 2

Books and Keys

Deidara was well aware of his clumsy nature and inability to pay attention to the finer details in life. Sure, he even admitted to himself that he probably was not fit to be the famed detective he often fantasized he could be one day. But that did not bother him so much as the fact that he was the gawkiest person he knew of. He could not count the number of times he had caused an unspeakable mishap, on both hands—maybe if he included his toes? No, there were more than twenty in his lifetime; without a doubt, more than twenty.

Being so wrapped up in his own shortcomings, Deidara did not think to check on the cursing, disgruntled male before him. And so, he did not.

Deidara hopped up, suddenly remembering his mission, and dusted himself off—eyes darting about the floor for the newspaper he treasured so. Rubbing the bridge of his nose gently, he plucked the morning paper from the ground beside the angry young man that was, at the moment eyeing his attacker furiously. Deidara grinned at the crumpled paper, nodding to the male at his feet. "Good day, Sir!" And with that, he was off again, leaving a confused and irritated redhead alone on the velvet carpeting.

"Why that little-", he growled, massaging his aching head, careful to keep it from splitting in two. "Brat." He finished, spitting the name like fire. Bringing himself to his feet, he hobbled down the hall after the dense blond, determined to get an apology. Or to beat the kid senseless, whichever came easier. The seething redhead so intent on his new purpose did not even think to grab his book, lying upturned on the plush carpet.

And thus began the journey of the nameless story, which would be passed on from one hand to another—cycling about till its eventual end. But there is a better place and time for that section.

"Stupid, little Brat."

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x**

Deidara sighed, jiggling the brass doorknob in a sad attempt to enter his dorm. Flopping against the superior, polished doorframe, he folded both arms over his chest; pouting at the opposing door. "Stupid door. Stupid dorm. Stupid Everything!" He barked at the door, kicking it angrily. "Un." He finished, blond hair falling over his shoulders as he bowed his head in defeat. There was no getting in his room now, Hidan probably nicked his key when they were at breakfast; he would probably have to employ Konan in order to get his prized key back.

Hidan could never refuse Konan, no one could. No one had the guts, or was that stupid. Deidara wiped his nose with the back of his hand, feeling strange moisture on his upper lip. Was he getting a runny nose? He hated colds. The blond frowned, glancing at his hand. Red, why red? Oh.

Deidara squealed and jumped at the sight of blood smeared on his knuckles. He bounced about from one leg to another, obviously in too much of a panic to care if anyone saw his blatant show of idiocy. "Oh, no! When did this happen, un? Oh, no!" His thoughts snapped back to the man he had cashed into not but ten minutes ago. Immediately feeling the guilt well up in his belly, he dashed back to scene of the crime, hoping he had not killed the man.

**x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x**

"Stupid, stupid Brat." The redhead grumbled, adjusting his tie, as was his habit when annoyed or flustered. He had given up on finding the thick-headed blond not too long ago; the kid was too fast compared to his dizzy counterpart. So he settled with hating him from afar, sending rude names he would never think of uttering to his mother—well, if he had a mother. He sighed petulantly, peering down the hall—a small figure coming closer rapidly.

What was the emergency? Why were they running through the halls? Why—Oh, no.

He raised both arms over his head, in a defensive stance and squeezed his eyes shut; bracing for impact. As the soft thud of shoes on carpet came nearer, and seemed to slow, he peeked from under his arms, just in time to see the blond that had crashed into him earlier-clearly decelerating. The redhead exhaled, releasing the breath he had been holding in fear of the oncoming collision.

But he was not so lucky. He was never so lucky.

With a resounding thump, he found himself feeling strangely nostalgic as his fell to the floor, the blond already sprawled on the carpet. "Again.." He mouthed, having all the wind knocked out of him when he hit the ground. "Why." He choked, sitting up slowly, head still spinning from the crash.

"Owwie." Large brown orbs slid to the blond before him, eyes immediately narrowing at the clumsy boy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The redhead spluttered, still trying to catch his breath. As if noticing him for the first time, the blond boy tensed up, blue eyes widening at the irate male he had crashed into for the second time that early afternoon. Said, enraged redhead eyeballing his opposite as if he had committed the greatest sin; Deidara scoured his brain for words.

"I'm sorry! I just—I'm sorry, un!" He lowered his head in apology, shoulders slumping as he recognized his failure. "I came back to say sorry for crashing into you earlier, but.. yeah.." The blond gave him a pleading look, hoping to get how sorry he was across.

"You're an idiot." He redhead hissed and picked himself off the floor, adjusting his tie in the usual way.

"Yeah, I know, un." Deidara puckered his lips, at a loss—also hoisting himself on wobbly legs. "I'm Deidara, by the way!" He smiled sheepishly, offering the livid male a friendly hand.

"Sasori." The short redhead, now labeled Sasori, eyed the slightly tan hand carefully before huffing and shaking the hand slowly. "Now, goodbye." Sasori turned on his heel, remembering the book he had so carelessly forgotten. Perhaps it was where he left it; he grimaced at the thought of having to search for the worn novel. Surely no one would find interest in it, it would definitely be there; he assured himself.

Deidara stared in shock; maybe Sasori was mad at him? No way, he cannot have someone mad at him already; it was only a three weeks into the school year. But Sasori was scary, perhaps even more frightening than Konan. And with all the courage he could muster, Deidara traipsed after the receding redhead. No way was someone going to hate him this soon, not on his watch.

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**Another chapter done! Phew.**

**Please, review and tell me what you think!**

**Reviews make me feel like a kitty high on catnip. CATNIP!**

**Gimme your catnip-reviews.**


	4. Sharks and Starfish

**Thank you, deidaralover4evr, MitchiMarra , Envyyyyy and FireFox Vixen for the lovely reviews. And once again, a thank you to anyone that favorite'd or followed.**

**They mean a lot :) If I didn't get any, I probably would have given up on this story. Bah. On to the chapter.**

**The characters do not belong to me. Dude, stop assuming that they're mine. I will slap you.**

**Please enjoy!**

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The Pianist

Chapter 3

Sharks and Starfish

Deidara puckered his lips in thought, arms folded neatly beneath his chin. "And you have no idea where you left it?" Sasori blinked back at the blond he had just met not but a few hours prior. He placed the steaming teacup upon the elegant china with a soft click, eyes narrowing at the boy before him.

"Of course I know where I left it. I dropped it when you carelessly bumped into me." Sasori growled as Deidara stared back.

"You probably shouldn't have left it on the floor, un." Deidara took a sip from his cup, large sapphire orbs rising to meet a fuming redhead.

"I only forgot that it was there because I wanted an apology."

"Oh." Deidara mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if remembering the accidents from earlier in the day. "Well, you should have been watching where you were going." Sasori huffed at this, resting his chin upon his open palm, averting his gaze to the wall. "Un."

"The same could be said for you, Brat."

"Brat? Don't call me that, un!" Sasori's eyes slid back to the blond, disinterest clouding his even stare. "You don't have to be such a jerk, un. I invited you to tea as an apology."

"And I extend my gratitude, but frankly I don't know why I'm still here." The bored redhead drawled, gaze falling to the thin wisps of steam uncurling from the tea. Deidara considered the redhead for a short while, an uneasy silence falling over the pair; save, the hum of conversation and clinks of china surrounding them. The blond sighed, about to excuse himself.

"If you'll excuse me, I must find my book." Sasori interjected, standing up, fingers still resting upon the table. "Thank you, for the tea. Try to be less of a clumsy brat." Deidara blinked slowly, startled by the interruption of his almost-statement.

"And you can try to be less of a rude jerk, un!" Deidara quipped, a little too loud for a nearby couple's taste. Sasori raised an eyebrow, watching the blond give the couple a sheepish smile, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Sorry."

"Good luck with your problem, there."

"What problem? I don't have a problem, un." Deidara glared at the redhead, only to receive a bemused glimpse from his retreating peer. Deidara grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets, grabbing any spare change. Who does that guy think he is? Where does he get off being such a jerk? "You have a problem!" He called from his seat, earning more amused glances from the neighboring tables.

Deidara snorted at the redhead's back, eyes narrowing further as Sasori waved lazily, disappearing beyond the heavily polished doors. "Un." He pouted, tossing the tip onto the table, shooting an annoyed glare left, and then right.

Deidara trudged out the door of the café, eyes downcast as he thought over the very reason that he was in such a rush to get to his room in the first place; and the reason that he caused his new acquaintance to be so angry with him. There was indeed a pattern in the ballroom murders, he knew it—but he couldn't put his finger on it. What did they all have in common? There must be something linking them?

"Why so glum, Blondie?" Deidara jumped at the sudden disturbance, holding both hands out before him in a defensive stance.

"Eh? Where did you come from, Kisame, un?" Deidara's arms fell to his side, swaying slightly as he looked over his friend. "What the hell happened to you?" He cocked an eyebrow at the blue man, earning a shrug.

"Konan wanted to run an experiment. Who am I to say no?" Kisame chuckled, flashing a toothy grin at his blond comrade. Deidara nodded slowly, still unsure of why he was blue. But when it came to Konan, why question it?

Deidara noted, eyes lighting up as he pointed a trembling finger in Kisame's face; stifling laughter he sputtered. "You look like a stinking shark, Man! That is so freaking hilarious, un." Blond hair bouncing as he clutched his belly, finding this amazingly comical. And perhaps it was never that funny to start with, but when you coupled the statement with an image of Kisame lurking about the sandy floor, eating starfish; it proved most entertaining. To Deidara, anyway.

"Oh yes, let's all laugh at my suffering." Kisame rolled his eyes.

"Oh, shut it. You know you enjoy eating starfish, un, Fishy." Deidara giggled, watching Kisame's face twist into a grimace.

"Sharks don't eat starfish. Well, I don't think they do." He rubbed the back of his head, preoccupied with the concept of sharks eating starfish. Kisame 'aha'd at the blond, recalling the very reason that he had met up with him outside of the café. "I saw you sharing tea with Sasori, how did you lure him out of the auditorium? I've been trying for a while to get that boring, old bastard out of there, but he never wants to come. How'd you do it?"

Deidara blinked slowly, "You know him, un? He's so mean. I invited him to tea because I crashed into him in the hallway and I felt bad. I don't know how else to say sorry, un."

"Yeah. Wait how come you never invite me to tea?" Deidara shrugged, traipsing off in the direction of his room. "Seriously, Man. How come you never buy me tea?" Kisame continued, tailing the fleeing blond.

"Because I'm never sorry, un."

"What about that time you blew up my shoe?"

"Like, I said. I'm never sorry."

"Oh, you're an asshole."

"Un."

Coffee colored orbs focused on the pair, only sliding back to the crumpled paper after the pair had vanished behind a corner. He stared at the bold heading on the newspaper, mouth set in a straight line; he gulped, a prickling heat pooling in his chest. There was absolutely no way the blond was on to him. But it would be best to tail him, he observed, much to the health of his remaining sanity.

This was going to be difficult.

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**Oh yes. Another chapter done. And what? Some plot, I need more plot in every chapter.**

**Nah, I'm kidding. Plot is for the weak! Mwahahahahahaha! I kid, again. I'll work on it x.x**

**Please review and tell me what you think! I will give you imaginary highfives! C'mon! You know you want imaginary highfives!**


	5. Crimson and Monsters

**Thank You so much for your reviews MitchiMarra, deidaralover4evr, Lazy Gaga, and the Guest reviewer :)**

**Okay, to start off, I feel really bad for not updating in so long. And honestly I have no excuse other than; I'm lazy and kept getting distracted by things! First it was crocheting, then it was doodling, Halloweenie! and Halo 4 and Assassin's Creed 3 and... you get the picture, I'm a horrible person.**

**I'll try to get back in my writing groove :3 Promise.**

**I honestly did't think anyone would like this weird story. Of course, I do. But that doesn't count, I'm like a sub-person. sub-lady? Sub-person.**

** On to the disclaimers!**

**I do not own the characters! But the story is mine, all mine ):D bwahahaha! **

**Seriously though, the characters don't belong to me :I**

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The Pianist

Chapter 4

Crimson and Monsters

It was not that Sasori was afraid of human contact; no, not in the slightest. Neither was a fear of embarrassing himself evident. Sasori simply enjoyed the pleasant solitude of the auditorium. Not that his haven was ever truly empty, at least, not to him.

He leant back on the bench, and chewed on his bottom lip, folding one leg over the other. He sighed, eyes scanning over the extravagant concert hall. The usual violet banners strung from pillar to pillar, bordered with thin gold strings—only visible if one squinted long enough—hung above row after row of deep blue cushions. This was glamour and overindulgence he could have never dreamt of as a child.

Thoughts drifting back to his weaker self, so small and helpless; Sasori frowned, lightly drumming his fingers on his knees. Lost in deep meditation, his gaze sank back to the large, pearly instrument before him. Perhaps he could find some time to practice today?

And with a nod of self-assurance, he tapped a single key; dull brown orbs glazing over as the hall was plunged into darkness. A lone beam of light speared the gloom, igniting the angelic instrument; a fire dancing over the stage. The swirling inferno sprung from Sasori's fingertips, churning and folding as the tune from the troubled musician picked up. Sparks and inferno alike crashed upon the stage, no longer tiptoeing over the polished floors; now lapping at the auditorium seats like pebbles on a beach. But there was no heat from the sea of fire; it did not burn the seats, nor singe the regal curtains overhead.

The redhead smiled to the once absent audience, eyes rising to meet a full house. He scanned the audience, only granting them a half-hearted concert. His nimble fingers faltered, he sighed and frowned at the silent audience, annoyed by their dead stares. Their empty eyes gazed back, hollow crevices oozing a sickeningly, pale, yellow pus. Skin grey and seeming rough in texture stretched over fractured and broken bodies, lumpy from the muscles melting into mud. Sasori blinked back, the inferno suspended above the stage, as if waiting for the pianist to continue.

Some grinned, while others sat with jaws hanging open in silent and long-gone terror, each soulless corpse propped against the chair, arms lying neatly in their sunken in laps. This would never suffice, not really. Where was the applause? Where were the gasps and cheers of pleased fans? These pieces of rotten flesh, putrid and revolting in their own rancid filth—only to tide him over; he reassured himself.

Eventually he could have a live audience; bustling and warm spectators clapping and staring in awe of his amazing talents.

But until then, Sasori bowed before his gallery of the dead, the blaze sweeping over the awaiting carcasses as Sasori's messy hair fell over his eyes. The deep crimson waves soundless as they engulfed the full house. By the time Sasori opened his eyes again, the mass of rotting flesh was gone completely, the auditorium fading back to the usual bright interior. But Sasori could still see the hundreds of empty eye sockets staring at him, watching him.

What were they up to? He pondered.

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**So, not a lot happened? Short chapter? What? Silence! I'm getting in the groove here.**

**Advancing plot is advancing.**

**And ewwie, Sasori needs to get some better company. Seriously; nasty-ass.**

**Please review :d Reviews weigh on my conscience and push me to get my lazy butt writing xD And I'll give you... internet highfive? That promotion seemed to have the best effect. Come on! Highfive!**


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